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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291160">don't let go (you're not going to fall)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire'>hawksonfire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Lives, Bucky Barnes in the Future, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, WinterHawk Big Bang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:00:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. They played together, they fought together, and when the time came, they died together. </p><p>Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, and his faithful friend Bucky Barnes, saved the lives of countless people by flying an enemy airship carrying weapons of mass destruction into the Arctic during World War One. This was the ultimate sacrifice, the most noble choice these two soldiers could make, and the people of the world will be forever grateful to them for it.</p><p>What happens if Bucky Barnes never fell off that train?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Winterhawk Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts">Kangofu_CB</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tak_cajaz/gifts">tak_cajaz</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337351">[ART] for "don't let go (you're not going to fall)"</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB">Kangofu_CB</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's here! My second Winterhawk Big Bang fic! I had so much fun working on this one, and thanks so much to my two amazing artists, Kangofu_CB and takcajaz for creating some gorgeous art for two separate scenes in this fic! Chapters will be posted daily until this fic is complete! I hope you enjoy! The art for this fic will be posted with later chapters!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>~ Bucky, November 1943 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why you gotta be such a moron sometimes, Stevie?” Bucky glares at his brother in all but blood, shoving down the faint shock he still feels whenever he looks at Steve’s new body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It ain’t moronic, Buck,” Steve says, exasperated. “It’s the right thing to do! I disobeyed orders comin’ to get you, and I’d do it again a million times, but the brass are gonna punish me worse for it if I don’t take responsibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky scoffs. “Since when do you give a single shit about what you should’a done? You’ve been gettin’ in back-alley scraps and I’ve been wiping the blood off my knuckles since we were seven, Stevie, don’t gimme that bullshit.” Steve pinks slightly, the tips of his ears going rosy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that!” Dum-Dum butts in jokingly, “He’s Captain America!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Ass-merica, more like,” Bucky mutters. Dum-Dum chortles loudly and Steve shoves him, sending him stumbling four feet to the side - which is about four feet further than he would’ve gone if Steve shoved him Before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, gee, I’m sorry Buck, guess I don’t know this new strength of mine,” Steve says, eyes wide and innocent. Bucky’s not fooled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, punk,” he says, shoving back. As expected, Steve doesn’t budge. “Built like a fuckin’ brick shithouse,” Bucky mutters, taking a swig from his canteen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gettin’ kinda late,” Steve says, squinting up at the sky. “We should probably set up watch and camp for the night.” Bucky salutes Steve sarcastically and veers away, spreading the words throughout the troops. He gets a few salutes from them, which is unexpected - probably they’ve seen him hanging out around Steve. Once he’s done that, he makes his way back to Steve so they can grab the first shift and talk a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve probably got questions,” Steve says quietly as they’re making their rounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out my fuckin’ rear end, pal,” Bucky snorts. “What the fuck happened?” He listens as Steve tells him of trying to enlist the night Bucky got shipped out, his time at Camp Lehigh, the procedure he went through to look like this slab of beef, the USO tour, and breaking away from that horse and pony show when he heard Bucky had been captured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s been my five months, Buck, what about you?” Steve says, looking over. Bucky smacks him. “Ow, Buck! What the hell?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky smacks him again. “You enlisted </span>
  <em>
    <span>five</span>
  </em>
  <span> times? You let someone try an experimental procedure on you that could’ve killed you? You jumped on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking grenade</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! Steve, moron is not a big enough word to fucking cover all that shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was the right thing to do, Buck, I had to,” Steve says, all earnest and goddammit - Bucky’s already forgiven him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever do something that dumb when I ain’t there to back you up, punk, and I’ll kill you.” Steve’s eyes widen at Bucky’s threat, no doubt hearing the severity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he nods. “Get some rest, Buck, I got watch.” Bucky can’t even find it in himself to argue so he just folds up Steve’s jacket and puts it behind his head, closing his eyes and drifting off into a restless sleep, dreams filled with the feeling of his veins burning. When he wakes up, Steve’s hand is clamped over his mouth. “You were cryin’ out in your sleep, Buck, didn’t want you to get us caught.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods, grateful. “Thanks, punk. Sorry ‘bout that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’ to apologize for, Buck,” Steve says firmly. “Anyone would have nightmares after what you’ve been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Steve.” Bucky just nods and stretches. Time for another long day of walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s hear it for Captain America!” Bucky shouts, and the rest of the soldiers break out into raucous applause, cheering and clapping for Steve - who couldn’t care less, his eyes glued to a brunette broad that must be Agent Carter. Steve told him about her on their walk back, and Bucky’s happy for him - Carter seems like she sees that Steve’s heart matched his outside long before he became Captain America. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve catches his eye over her shoulder and Bucky grins, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve goes pink and Bucky snorts. No matter how much Steve’s outside has changed, he’s still got no idea how to deal with women. Bucky shakes his head and heads over to the medical tent, hoping they can maybe tell him what the fuck Zola put in him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you! They’re all idiots,” Bucky snickers, swivelling on his stool to face Steve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How ‘bout you?” Steve asks. “You ready to follow </span>
  <em>
    <span>Captain America</span>
  </em>
  <span> into the jaws of death?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky knows if he said no, Steve would back off. Probably even pull a few strings to have him honourably discharged, if that’s what he wanted. Thing is, though - that’s not what Bucky wants. “Hell no,” he says dryly, “That little guy from Brooklyn, who was too dumb not to run away from a fight - I’m following him.” Steve smiles at him gratefully, ducking his head and thanking the bartender for the drink he just placed in front of him. Bucky holds back a snort and leans in a little. “But you’re keepin’ the outfit, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows at Steve, snickering at his exasperated face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s queerness has never been a secret from Steve. Hell, he was the first person Bucky told when he realized that he didn’t like women all that much. He had stumbled his way through the explanation, pale and terrified that Steve would reject him. But Steve had just hugged him and said, “You know I don’t care who you love, Buck, it ain’t none of anyone’s business but yours anyway.” Bucky had done the same for Steve when he told Bucky that he liked men and women the same. End of the line, that’s what they always said - and Bucky was damned if he was gonna break that promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” Steve says, smirking. They glance at a poster for his show before Steve continues. “It’s kind of growing on me.” The music in the other room dies down and the two of them lean backward to look in at the same time, making Bucky laugh. Seems no matter what they get up to, Steve and Bucky are in sync.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain,” Agent Carter says, dressed to kill in a bombshell red dress. Bucky’s a fairy, through and through, but even he can see the appeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agent Carter,” Steve says, like a chump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down, noticing the way Agent Carter’s walking - she’s got a pistol strapped to her thigh, if Bucky’s assessment of her gait is correct. “Ma’am,” Bucky says respectfully when she glances at him. Smart of her to have a weapon on her. She mentions something about a Howard, and Bucky has to stop his eyebrows from raising. Could she mean Howard Stark? The guy with the flying car? Man, that thing was so futuristic. Too bad it didn’t work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve glances at Bucky, eyes pleading for help after he agrees to go see Howard the next morning, but Bucky just smirks. Punk can find his own way around women. “I see your top squad is prepping for duty,” she says wryly, a smile curling at her blood-red lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like music?” Bucky says, letting a little charm slip into his voice. She doesn’t even spare him a glance. Bucky finds his opinion of her rising steadily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, actually,” she says. “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” She’s staring at Steve pointedly, but as usual, Steve needs to be beaten about the head with a brick before he can even </span>
  <em>
    <span>begin</span>
  </em>
  <span> to understand women. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what are we waiting for?” Bucky asks with a grin, but he doesn’t mean it. This is the first girl that’s paid attention to Steve in a while, and he would never take that away from Steve. She’d probably be an excellent dancer, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The right partner,” Agent Carter purrs, turning to walk away. “Oh eight hundred, Captain.” She saunters out of the bar and Bucky turns to Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m invisible,” he jokes, “I’m turning into you. This is a horrible dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take it so hard,” Steve grins, “Maybe she’s got a friend.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder and walks away, leaving Bucky laughing at the bar.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I deserved that,” Bucky mutters before following Steve over to Dum-Dum and his pals.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>~ Bucky, April 1944 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky huffs as he races through the forest, dodging a hail of bullets from the enemy. “Stupid fucking Captain America,” he grumbles through his gasps for air, “Goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>moron</span>
  </em>
  <span>, gonna kill his blond ass when I make it back to camp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slides under a fallen tree, barely even out of breath, and ducks into a hollow he finds on the other side. It’s freezing and he’s hoping and praying that whoever was chasing him doesn’t find them. He’s there for maybe an hour before he sees Steve’s boots clomping through the snow. He whistles their safe sign, and Steve whistles it back so Bucky hauls himself out of the snow, stomps over to Steve and socks him right in the jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck! What was that for?” Steve shouts, stumbling backwards. It probably hurt Bucky more than it hurt him, honestly, but it means Bucky’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucking idiot!” He snarls, “You gave away my position, you dumbass! I had to run from other marksmen, I almost got shot - all because you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>saluted me</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s face goes white and he staggers backward. “Bucky, I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let it happen again,” Bucky hisses, and he stomps away, furious. He’s not really as mad as he’s pretending to be, but he knows it’ll get the thought to stick in Steve’s brain if Steve thinks he’s furious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that night, when two chocolate bars appear in Bucky’s sleeping sack, he chucks one at Steve’s head and says, “What, you think you can bribe me with chocolate, punk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve slumps in relief and throws it back at him. “Dunno, did it work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” Bucky grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jerk,” Steve says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Punk,” Bucky returns fondly. Yeah, Steve can be an idiot sometimes - but he’s Bucky’s idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>~ Bucky, January 2 1945 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t possible, Captain!” The man in uniform slams his hand onto the table. “We simply cannot afford to run a mission to save those men right now! They will have to hold out until we can rescue them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s unacceptable,” Steve growls, standing to his full height. Bucky and the rest of their team follow suit, glaring down at the table of officers who’ve never seen a real fight in their life. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be rescuing those soldiers, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> be providing me with the resources I need to do so, and if this ends in a dishonourable discharge, then so be it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may be willing to take that chance, Captain, but is your team?” the same guy says smugly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just follow orders,” Dum-Dum says, shrugging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer opens his mouth again, but before he can, Bucky jerks his head towards Steve and says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> orders.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer’s mouth drops open and after a few moments of silence, Steve turns to Colonel Phillips and says, “I’ll need two tanks, a new bike, and however many men you can spare, sir."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phillips nods gruffly. “You’ll have it in two days, Rogers. Don’t make me regret this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never, sir,” Steve smirks, and they turn around and walk out of the room. Once they get far enough, Steve turns around and says seriously, “I understand if you don’t want to come on this mission with me. It’s a hell of a risk, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stuff it, Cap,” Monty says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, didn’t you hear what we said back there?” Gabe scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Les ordres du Capitaine nous entendons,” Frenchie states, throwing in a salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all look at Bucky and he shrugs. “Punk’s been stuck with me since we were kids, ain’t gettin’ rid of me now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve looks at them, awe clear in his face. He shakes his head and turns around, already busting out orders and tellin’ them what they need to grab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(When they get back from the mission, bringing with them nearly a thousand rescued soldiers, their team takes immense pleasure in seeing the stuffy officer who’d doubted them choke on his tongue.)</span>
</p><p>
  <b>~ Bucky, February 17 1945 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The second that the doors slammed shut, separating him from Steve, Bucky was terrified. Zola may have done something to him in Azzano, but it was nowhere near what was done to Steve and Bucky is under no illusions that he’s invincible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his gun runs out of bullets, Bucky resigns himself to death, hoping only that it’s quick. And then Steve tosses him a gun and Bucky kills the guy that he thought was going to kill him, and his heart is still racing when Steve yells “Get down!” and covers them both with the shield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blast from the gun blows the side of the train open, knocking the shield from Steve’s hands and Steve into the wall, leaving Bucky no choice but to pick it up and fire his gun at the metal man standing at the other end of the train car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The metal man fires again and Bucky doesn’t even have time to brace himself against the shield before he’s sent flying out of the train and into the freezing mountain air, desperately gripping the rail on the side of the train. His legs dangle over a thousand-foot drop and Bucky prays to every deity he can think of, clenching his eyes shut and his fists closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky!” Steve yells. His shouts are just barely loud enough to be heard over the roar of the rushing air, and Bucky manages to open his eyes for a split second before the wind forces them shut again. He sees Steve climbing out over the dangling wall, terror clear on his face. “Hang on!” he screams, moving slowly towards Bucky’s position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky can feel his fingers slipping, the cold and wind too intense for him to maintain his grip. He hopes Steve won’t think of Bucky’s death as his fault. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But he knows that’s wishful thinking. Bucky inches closer to Steve, hoping against all odds that they’ll be close enough before the rail gives out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grab my hand!” Steve yells, holding out a hand and stretching his entire body towards Bucky. The rail gives a groan and one end pops loose from the wall in a screech of metal. “No!” Steve screams, making one final, desperate lunge as the other end of the rail tears away from the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their fingers brush as Bucky sinks lower, and then, defying fucking gravity - of course he does, he’s Steve goddamn Rogers for crying out loud, never met a fight he couldn’t win - Steve stretches his arm out and grabs Bucky’s wrist, holding so tightly Bucky’s sure he’s going to be bruised later. Steve hauls him back inside the train and pulls him into the next car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold,” Bucky mutters, rubbing at his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> do something like that again, James Buchanan, do you understand me?” Steve shrieks, channelling every ounce of Sarah Rogers in his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky looks up at Steve and nods shakily, taking a moment to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> and appreciate the air he took for granted, and he can see Steve’s lower lip wobble before he pulls himself together. Bucky sees the moment Steve’s face changes - the switch between capturing Zola because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> and capturing him because he almost had Bucky killed, and the viciousness surprises him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you go and die on me now,” Steve says, shaking him, “I don’t want to explain that to your Ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shudders, and it ain’t from the cold. “Yes, sir.” He gets up and tries to roll his shoulder, crying out when it sends a jolt of pain through him. “Jeez, Stevie, I think you dislocated my shoulder! I’m gonna be useless ‘til my arm comes back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you have rather I let you die?” Steve says dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, just be more careful with those meat shovels you call hands next time,” Bucky smirks, nudging Steve with his uninjured shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do that, Sergeant,” Steve says, shaking his head. He hugs Bucky one more time, and Bucky endures the pain his shoulder is screaming about, because Steve saved his life. He would be dead right now if Steve hadn’t grabbed him - or worse, laying at the base of the mountain, severely injured and unable to protect himself against anything else that’s out there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, Steve,” Bucky says, “Who’d watch your reckless ass if I died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>~ Bucky, March 4 1945 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really had to stop for that?” Bucky teases as Steve hauls himself aboard the Valkyrie after kissing Agent Carter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Steve grumbles, tips of his ears pink. They go silent as someone curses in German from ahead of them, and the two men creep forward until they come into a massive room filled with smaller planes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the -” Bucky starts, but then he sees someone raise a gun at Steve. He raises his own and fires over Steve’s shoulder, dropping them before they can get a shot off. “Fuck are these for?” he finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve doesn’t get a chance to answer before a group of Hydra soldiers run across the gangplank above them. Steve leaps up and swings across, knocking one of them off - Bucky breaks the soldier’s neck when he lands. He grapples with another soldier for a few minutes before the soldier punches him right in the face, sending Bucky reeling backward, and the soldier leaps towards what must be the cockpit of one of the planes, labelled ‘E3’, a panel opening up beneath the plane. Before he can get in, Bucky sees a panel with ‘E3’ stencilled onto it and he lunges forward and slams his hand down on the red button, sending the plane dropping out of the Valkyrie and its almost-pilot along with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds later, another man goes flying out of the hole into open air and Bucky glances across the room to see Steve running towards a plane on the other half of the room, cockpit cover sliding closed with a hiss. Steve lunges for it, but another Hydra soldier follows him, knocking his shield out of his hands and forcing him to grab hold of the plane just before it drops out into open air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve!” Bucky cries, shock filling his veins. He snaps himself out of it, grief and horror fueling his actions as he fights his way towards the main cockpit, taking out every man he comes across. He’s not letting a </span>
  <em>
    <span>single one </span>
  </em>
  <span>of those goddamn planes leave this ship! He grabs Steve’s shield along the way and slings it over his back, unwilling to just leave it lying there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just made it to the door leading out of the room when metal screeches behind him. He whips around and aims his gun at the - Steve? Bucky shouts his name. Steve races over to him and Bucky pulls him into a hug. “Now we’re even, you understand?” he growls, shoving the shield at Steve. “No more stupid shit like that, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir, Sergeant Barnes,” Steve snickers. He straps the shield onto his arm and they move forward, taking out all Hydra soldiers that cross their path. They make it to the cockpit and Steve slides open the door quietly. They tiptoe in and Bucky takes a position behind a pillar immediately, while Steve cautiously walks up to the front and checks the pilot's seat. With a sudden whine, Schmidt appears out of the shadows and Steve barely turns in time to get his shield up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blast ricochets off of the shield and goes through the windshield, letting in a howling wind and snow. “You don’t give up, do you?” Schmidt sneers, still aiming the weapon at Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Steve mutters before racing towards Schmidt, blocking two more shots from the Hydra gun as he moves. When he gets to Schmidt, he smacks the gun out of his hands, and then they’re both moving too fast for Bucky to keep track of. He sneaks out from behind the pillar and makes his way to the front of the cockpit, thinking maybe he can find a way to land this plane before it kills anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just barely dodges out of the way in time when Steve shoves Schmidt onto the piloting stick, breaking it and sending the plane into a nosedive. He latches onto the chair while Steve and Schmidt go flying and manages to pull himself into it, strapping himself in. He grabs hold of the stick and pulls up, biceps straining under the pressure. His vision starts to go fuzzy but he keeps hold of the stick, pouring every ounce of his strength into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he can feel the plane responding, something smashes against his cheek and his head flies back and slams into the hard back of the chair, knocking him out cold. When he comes to, Schmidt is gone and Steve is beside him, staring at the display in horror. “Wha’ happen?” Bucky slurs, wincing as he feels his cheekbone move in a way it’s probably not supposed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Schmidt’s dead, Tesseract’s gone,” Steve says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods. “What now, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we find a way to stop this plane before it destroys half the Eastern seaboard,” Steve says grimly. They look at the control board together, but it doesn’t take long for Bucky to see that there’s nothing they can do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve,” he says gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Buck!” Steve shouts. “I won’t let all those people die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Stevie,” Bucky soothes, “There’s only one way out of this, but I need to know you’re sure. There’s no coming back from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s eyes widen. “Buck,” he breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to know you’re sure, Steve,” Bucky says again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve clenches his jaw and nods. “I gotta contact base, tell them what happened and what we’re doing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you take the wheel, pal,” Bucky says, and he unstraps himself and lets Steve sit down. Leaning against the chair, he listens as Steve reaches out to base and gets Peggy instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peggy,” Steve says softly, “This is our choice.” He pulls out a compass with Agent Carter’s picture in it and puts it in a divot in the control board. Bucky squeezes his shoulder, staying silent. With a grunt, Steve pushes the control stick down. Bucky slips backwards, stumbling before he regains his balance and clamps down onto Steve’s shoulder once more. “Peggy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” she says, devastation clear in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance,” Steve says, and Peggy lets out a sob. They pass through the cloud banks and Bucky’s grip tightens as the sheet of ice where they’ll be staying for the foreseeable future comes into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Peggy says, steel in her voice. “A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ice is gorgeous. Bucky’s glad that his final resting place will at least be beautiful. “You got it,” Steve says, voice shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight o’clock on the dot, don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> be late. Understood?” Peggy says, half-sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure he’s on time, ma’am,” Bucky says, and both Peggy and Steve let out a wet chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to dance with Buck, I still don’t know how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll teach you,” Peggy says softly, “Just be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have the band play somethin’ slow,” Steve says, the ice growing ever closer. “I’d hate to step on your -” The plane hits the ice with a crunch, and Bucky loses his footing and goes flying, hitting his head on a steel beam. He must black out for a minute or two, because when he comes to, there’s water streaming in through the broken windshield, filling the room steadily. Bucky grits his teeth and fights against the current and the freezing water and the blurry vision to try and reach Steve, wanting to hold his brother in his arms one last time before they die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stevie!” he shouts, but the roar of the water is so loud, he doesn’t even know if Steve can hear him. His legs have gone numb and he’s barely moving against the current, but he keeps trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky!” he hears, and a hand pops up from near the pilot’s seat. Steve must have gotten knocked out of it when the plane hit. They’re on opposite sides of the room now, both struggling to get to the other.</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m coming, Steve, just hang on!” Bucky screams, but he can’t make it to the pilot seat. The current is too strong, and the water is too cold, and he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he won’t be able to make it in time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He locks eyes with Steve, knowing that he's come to the same conclusion. Steve holds his gaze for a long moment, then pitches his voice above the sound of the water and says, "I love you, Bucky."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Til the end of the line, pal," Bucky says back, echoing the familiar phrase, and realizing that this really is it -- they've said that to each other a thousand times, and now it's here. The end of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he sees before everything goes black is Steve’s hand reaching towards him, inches away from his own hand - and then Steve’s hand goes limp and James Buchanan Barnes knows no more.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter two! Gorgeous art by takcajaz to be linked when it's posted. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>~ Bucky, ???? ~ </b>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too quiet. That’s the first thing Bucky notices when he becomes aware of his surroundings. There’s no one shouting orders, no tanks moving around, no gunfire or the sound of shells dropping, and most importantly - he can’t hear Steve breathing. He has needed less sleep since he got the serum anyway, but he somehow always manages to be in the tent when Bucky wakes up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the quiet is the first tell. The second is the smell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It smells </span>
  <em>
    <span>good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like fresh, clean air that hadn’t been around bombs or armies or men who hadn’t showered for weeks at a time. Bucky’s never smelled air like this - the closest he can remember is smelling the air by the sea when his parents took them to the beach one day in the summer. Even then, he can remember smelling the salt of the water, the sweat beading on Steve’s brow next to him...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the lack of sound and the lack of smell add up to - what? Nothing Bucky can think of, anyway. There’s not much more he’ll be able to figure out with his eyes closed, so he breathes in deep, moves his head side to side a couple times, and opens his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ends up closing them again, as a reflex against the harsh white light shining on him. He opens them again, squinting this time, and finds the light much more manageable. “Hello?” He calls out, hoping that he’s somewhere that speaks English, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His French and Italian are decent enough, but he wouldn’t trust a medical explanation to them, and his Russian is passable at best, barely understandable at worst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excusez moi?” He tries next, still not getting a response. “Bonjourno? Can anyone hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open on silent hinges, and his eyes flick to the nurse who’s just entered, holding a clipboard and smiling prettily. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes,” she says, standing by the door. “Welcome back to the land of the living!” Her lip quirks up at that, like it’s a joke Bucky’s not privy to, and he raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he remembers. The Valkyrie going down, hitting his head on the beam, watching Steve’s hand go limp - Steve. He manages to keep most of his inner turmoil off of his face, although his mind is racing. “Thanks doll,” he replies automatically, lip curling up into a smirk. “Glad such a pretty face could welcome me home. Mind telling me where I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in New York, Sergeant Barnes,” she says. She hasn’t moved from the door, still standing there smiling at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Bucky says easily. “Mind telling me when I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blanches, face going white and eyes going wide as she takes an involuntary step back towards the door. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sergeant Barnes,” she stammers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s intrigued now. Getting that response to a simple question? Not normal. “Well, last I remember, it was March 4, 1945. So tell me, gorgeous, did I miss my twenty-eighth birthday by a few days or a few weeks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth drops open, and she flounders, clearly searching for an answer she doesn’t think he’ll like. “Well, I - It’s a bit more...complicated than that, Sergeant Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna tell me I travelled into the future or somethin’ doll?” Bucky snorts. “What is it, like ‘74 or somethin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be possible, but she goes even whiter and then the door opens behind her and she makes her escape. It doesn’t close behind her, but Bucky makes no move towards it. He simply lays back on the bed and closes his eyes, arms crossed behind his head, and starts to whistle a tuneless melody. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s got no idea where he is, if he’s in friendly or enemy territory, and unlike certain blond boneheads who will remain unnamed, Bucky doesn’t just dive into the thick of things - at least, not without a plan first. So until he has more information - like where he is, who’s holding him here, and what the fuck has happened to Steve - he’s not going anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky thinks he’s in that room for about a week before someone new comes in. Prior to this, it’s been the same dame bringing him his meals and avoiding his questions. This time, it’s a man, which is new in itself, and the man is - well, he’s more similar to Gabe Jones’ colouring than Bucky’s. Bucky’s got no problem with anyone of any race, as long as they ain’t an ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sergeant Barnes,” this man says. He’s got an eye patch, and yet somehow manages to make Bucky feel like he’s a bug pinned to a wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems you have me at a disadvantage,” Bucky drawls, not moving from his relaxed position on his bed. “You know my name...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Fury,” the man says. “Follow me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky takes his sweet time gathering his things, meager as they may be - his shirt gets put on, dog tags tucked underneath it, and his bed is neatly made before he turns to face Fury and nods. “After you, Fury.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury turns around and strides away, not even seeming a little bit peeved at Bucky’s blatant disregard for following his orders. “You’ve been in that room for seven days, Sergeant.” Bucky allows himself a little pride at his guess having been right, then stifles the emotion. “We’ve tried to come up with a better way to break this to you, but everything we came up with involved lying to your face, and frankly - I respect you too much for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blatant lie, but alright. “I appreciate that,” Bucky says simply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the last thing you remember?” Fury asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Valkyrie going down,” Bucky answers, seeing no harm in that bit of information. “Must have been a hell of a stroke of luck, finding it all the way up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was indeed,” Fury says. “I’m going to do you the courtesy of telling it to you straight, Sergeant - you went down in 1945. It’s 2012. You’ve been asleep for a hell of a long time, Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A buzzing fills Bucky’s ears, drowning out every thought that attempts to form with sheer panic and shock and denial. It takes a conscious effort for Bucky to wrench his focus back to the conversation at hand, shoving the part of him that’s screaming in panic deep down. Bucky scans Fury’s face, but finds no sign of deceit. Not that that means anything, Fury seems like a man accustomed to keeping secrets. “Where’s Captain Rogers?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Safe. Alive, like you. He hasn’t woken up yet, which is curious.” Fury eyes Bucky speculatively. “With the serum in him, we thought he’d for sure recover first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky snorts. “Ain’t no serum stronger than Steve’s stubbornness, Fury.” He’s about to say more when a commotion behind them catches his attention and he turns around to see a familiar blond head slamming into a wall and running out of the building. Bucky curses and is off like a shot, following Steve through crowds of people - who clearly aren’t smart enough to jump out of the way when they see a massive man barrelling at them at full speed - and eventually, out of the building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A host of noises immediately assaults him, everything seeming so much more - </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>, somehow. Bucky blocks it out and focuses on Steve, vaulting over cars and dodging around people, running in the direction of Times Square. He’s running faster than he’s ever ran before, nearly managing to keep up with Steve, and he’s barely even winded. What the fuck did Zola do to him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve comes to a dead stop in the middle of what should be Times Square, staring up at the massive screens and colours and pictures and lights surrounding him. Bucky nearly does the same, but Steve’s more important right now. “Steve!” he shouts. Steve doesn’t react. Bucky rolls his eyes. “Hey, punk! Stop ignoring me, would ya?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve’s head snaps towards him so fast that Bucky nearly gets whiplash and then him and Steve are running at each other full tilt. They slam into one another with a grunt, Steve’s bony elbows digging into Bucky’s ribcage. “Bucky!” Steve says, breathless, into his shoulder. “I thought we were dead for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky holds him close, breathing in the scent that is just purely Steve, has been since they were kids. That scent means </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it means </span>
  <em>
    <span>no judgement</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it means </span>
  <em>
    <span>safety</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I think we were dead, pal,” he says, and Steve pulls away, searching his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, they lied! They put me in a room, played a baseball game from ‘41, y’know, the one we went to? Plus the nurse’s uniform was all wrong, and now -” He gestures to the area around them. “Where the hell are we, Buck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sighs. “I was told we slept for 67 years in the ice, Stevie. Sounds fuckin’ loony, but the serum probably kept us alive enough to survive down there until someone thawed us out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t possibly believe that, Buck,” Steve says, disbelief clear on his face. “Sleeping for 67 years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shrugs. “How else would you explain all of this?” He gestures to the cacophony of sounds and smells and sights around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but...” Steve shakes his head. “Sixty-seven years, Buck. That means -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Means everyone we know is probably dead and gone, or near enough to it, yeah Stevie,” Bucky says gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, your family,” Steve says softly, blinking up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t think about that right now, Steve,” Bucky says firmly, even though all he wants to do is think about it, drink (a lot) and probably cry a fair amount too. A blockade of black cars, nothing like Bucky’s ever seen before, peel into Times Square, surrounding them and blocking them off from all the civilians. “We gotta figure out who we can trust, here and now. You with me, punk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve scrubs at his eyes hastily, then looks up at Bucky. “Til the end of the line, Buck, you know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky’s never been so happy to see Steve’s stubborn face in his life. “End of the line, Steve.” The two men stare into each other’s eyes for a moment longer, then stand up and face Fury. Their postures are identical - legs spread, arms crossed, faces blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen,” Fury says cautiously, “You alright here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Steve says, and his shoulders soften imperceptibly. “Just...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just?” Fury prompts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shuts his eyes, hiding his grief from Fury. “We had a date,” he says softly, and Bucky presses his shoulder to Steve’s in support. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Fury’s eye twitches, and Bucky takes only a little (quite a lot) of pleasure in the idea that they’ve maybe stumped him. “Regardless, gentlemen, we should get you out of the open. Sergeant Barnes, if you could go with Agent Rumlow over there?” A man Bucky doesn’t like the look of takes a step forward, but before Bucky can even move, Steve’s shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sergeant Barnes stays with me.” His voice is firm, and his tone suggests that Fury should agree, because Steve isn’t taking no for an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Rogers,” Fury sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All due respect, I don’t know you,” Steve states. “I don’t trust you, and frankly? I don’t much like you either. So Sergeant Barnes stays with me, and if you object...” Steve’s mouth twists into a mean grin. “Well, let’s just say you shouldn’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury looks them over for a moment, then nods jerkily. “Very well, Captain Rogers.” He leads them over to a car, and Bucky gets in first, Steve following behind him. In the two seconds that they’re alone in the car, Bucky takes Steve’s hand, squeezes it, and releases it a fraction of a second before Fury gets into the driver’s seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels a small amount of tension drain out of Steve’s body, and feels the same lessening of tension in his own. With a deep breath, Bucky calms his racing heart and directs his mind forwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time he and Steve were separated, Steve went and let himself get experimented on, fought Nazis without backup, and then they ended up crashing a plane. So Bucky will be damned if he lets them be apart again. Not until they know who they can trust in this new time, other than each other. Bucky can always trust Steve, and vice versa. He’d hate to think what might have happened if Steve woke up in this strange new future and Bucky hadn’t been there to greet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trouble, probably. With Steve involved and no one to curb his more reckless impulses? Oh yeah - definitely trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>~ Bucky, March 2012 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Abso-the fuck-lutely not.” Bucky’s voice is firm, unbending. It’s kinda hilarious to watch Fury’s face twitch before settling back into its natural angry look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sergeant Barnes -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said no. Why are we still talking about this?” Bucky looks around the room questioningly, but no one meets his gaze. It’s probably only Steve who can see the amusement in his face, but Bucky’s pretty damn sure that Fury at least suspects, if not outright </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that he’s having fun with this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could be real assets -” Fury tries next, but Bucky just cuts him off again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, assets, huh? Steve, this guy’s got a real thing for our </span>
  <em>
    <span>assets</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it’s not proper,” Bucky says, leering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, knock it off, Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky pouts, but slumps back into his chair. Steve turns to Fury. “You were saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury glares at Steve. “You could be real assets to this team, Captain Rogers, and I believe that the two of you could do some real good. You’d be placed with other... </span>
  <em>
    <span>enhanced</span>
  </em>
  <span> individuals, reporting directly to me - this is a good idea. Think it over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve shrugs. “We’ll think it over, but I’m not making any promises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I ask. Agent Coulson will escort you back to your quarters.” Fury gathers up his papers and heads out the door, jacket flapping behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he looks like a bat out of hell with that jacket on?” Bucky muses, and Steve snickers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Director Fury is well aware of the dramatic effect that jacket has on his comings and goings,” Agent “Call me Phil” Coulson says dryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky snorts. “I’m sure he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you gentlemen mind if we stop at my office before heading back to your quarters?” Coulson asks. “It’s got to do with our earlier conversation, Sergeant Barnes, and two of my specialists just got back from a mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, it’s no trouble,” Steve says. He and Bucky get up and follow Coulson down the hall and into the elevator. He catches Bucky’s eye and mouths ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>earlier conversation?’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bucky shrugs sheepishly at Steve, mouthing an apology. Once they arrive at Coulson’s office, he invites them in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They enter to find a lithe red headed woman sitting behind his desk, sharpening her nails with a letter opener, and a blond man laying upside on his couch, legs hanging over the back. “Phil!” The blond man exclaims, craning his head to look at them. “Who’s the eye candy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff,” Coulson says, a slight smile on his face. “This is Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, hello handsome,” the blond man purrs, staring at Bucky. Bucky blinks, cheeks flushing slightly, and offers a tentative grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop flirting with the senior citizens, Clint,” the redhead says, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they’re precious!” Barton whines. Coulson raises an eyebrow and Barton groans, slumping back onto the couch. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Ruin my fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How bad is his concussion?” Coulsons asks, walking over to his desk. Agent Romanoff gets out of his chair fluidly, moving around the desk and sitting on the other side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t go to Medical,” she says, an undercurrent of frustration in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All they’re gonna do is tell me what I already know, Tasha,” Barton says, still upside down on the couch. Now that Bucky’s listening for it, he can hear the slight slur in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but they’ll also give you the good drugs,” Agent Romanoff says patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good drugs ain’t worth bein’ stuck in Medical for who knows how long,” Barton scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like you’d stay there long anyway,” Coulson mutters under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I resent that,” Barton states, still upside down. Despite himself, Bucky’s mouth twitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agent Coulson, you said this had to do with our earlier conversation?” Bucky asks politely, still standing at parade rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson nods and gestures to the seats in front of his desk. Neither Steve nor Bucky sit, both still too uneasy to put anyone at their backs, not to mention Romanoff is still sitting and makes no move to vacate a chair. “That’s correct, Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson starts calmly. “As I’m sure you are no doubt aware, Director Fury believes that the two of you would be an incredible benefit to the team he’s trying to build.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe he used the word asset,” Bucky says blandly. He hears Steve choke back a snort beside him and has to hold back his own laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson eyes him thoughtfully. “He’s pushing me pretty hard to try and get you two to join up, seems to think you trust me for some reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No offense, sir,” Steve says, dipping his head respectfully, “But me an’ Buck don’t trust anyone but each other right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson nods. “That’s what I told him, Captain Rogers, but he still insisted I try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somethin’ tells me Fury ain’t the sort to give up easy,” Bucky says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s an understatement,” Barton mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson folds his hands together on his desk, eyeing Bucky and Steve. Something about his gaze makes Bucky want to squirm like he used to when his ma would scold him for playing too rough with his sisters. “I will tell Director Fury that you’re declining his offer to join his team. Meanwhile, I’m sure we can find something else for men of your talents to do at SHIELD.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky and Steve exchange a glance as Coulson keeps talking, then Steve interrupts. “I’m sorry, sir, but you seem to have misunderstood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson raises an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bucky and I aren’t just declining Director Fury’s offer,” Steve says carefully. “We’re declining SHIELD’s offer.” Coulson blinks at them, the barest hint of surprise on his face before it’s wiped away. Barton and Romanoff are dead silent, watching the three of them like they’re prey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you clarify that a bit more for me, Captain Rogers?” Coulson says, his tone unreadable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me and Steve don’t want to work for SHIELD,” Bucky butts in. “Thanks but no thanks. We’re real grateful that you pulled us out of the ice, don’t get us wrong, but that don’t mean we’re going to jump into a fight we know nothing about with people we don’t trust at our backs. Let us get settled in this time first. Check back with us in a couple years, maybe then our answer will be different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence fills the air, setting Bucky on edge. Unwittingly, his eyes flick to Agent Barton, and he’s met with an unreadable expression. “Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson starts. Bucky’s eyes snap back to Coulson. “Captain Rogers. You are coming out of a traumatic experience, I would advise you not to make any big decisions until -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big decisions like deciding to work for a shady government agency with little to no understanding of what they actually do?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. Coulson blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barton snorts inelegantly, slumping back onto the couch. “He’s got you there, Phil.” Just like that, the tension snaps. “Hey,” Barton says to Bucky, perking up, “Even though you’re telling SHIELD to fuck off - good on you for that, by the way - any chance I could get you on a shooting range? I’ve been called the greatest marksman since I was a kid, but you hold the world record -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on, I hold the </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Bucky sputters. Steve lets out a snort next to him, and Bucky elbows him in the gut. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>world</span>
  </em>
  <span> record? How could that even be tracked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remind me to show you sometime,” Barton says, smirking at Bucky. “It’d be my pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky finds himself tongue-tied, yet manages to respond, “It’s a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barton grins at him, the smile lighting up his whole face - and listen, Bucky’s never been one for dramatics, but the sight of Barton’s face all lit up and happy like that makes his heart skip a beat. “Great!” Barton says cheerily. “What about the shooting range thing? It’d be awesome to finally prove I’m the greatest marksman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blinks, competitive spirit surging. “Hey now,” he says, holding up a hand, “There’s no way you’re better than me, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barton winks at him. “Guess we’ll just have to find out then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson clears his throat. “If that’s settled, gentlemen, I would think Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes would like to start their new lives?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’d be real grateful if you could help us with that, Phil,” Steve says, pulling out his ‘aw-shucks’ routine. Wide eyes and an earnest smile, punk could practically get away with murder with that look. “Help us find a place, maybe? We’d have no idea where to start.” He shoots a glance at Bucky that clearly conveys ‘stay put’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coulson smiles at Steve. “It would be my pleasure, Captain,” he says, leading Steve away. “I can also help you access your backpay...” His voice fades into the distance as he and Steve leave the office, and Bucky’s left to fend for himself with Barton and Romanoff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Agent Romanoff purrs from one of the chairs in front of Coulson’s desk, “Sergeant Barnes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am,” Bucky says cautiously. He gets the feeling Agent Romanoff could eviscerate him with a glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“History books tell us you were quite the ladies man,” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blinks. “I’m in history books?” He asks incredulously. She laughs at him without actually laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” she says. “Would they be telling the truth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of it,” Bucky answers, eyeing her carefully. Based on the way Barton was acting, he’s pretty sure that Barton’s a fairy and Romanoff’s okay with it, but you can never be too careful. “I liked to dance, and I was pretty good at it.” He shrugs. “Dames liked that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call them dames,” Barton pipes up. “It’s considered disrespectful now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods. “Women, then,” he says instead. “They knew I wouldn’t press for more, was happy to just take ‘em for a spin and walk ‘em home. Didn’t expect nothin’ else, didn’t want nothin’ else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why would that be?” Romanoff murmurs, green eyes staring him down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky shifts on his feet. “All due respect, ma’am, that ain’t your business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it mine?” Barton asks, batting his eyes at Bucky. It should look ridiculous, but honestly it just makes Bucky want to kiss him stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want it to be,” Bucky answers, trying (and failing) to keep the hope out of his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I definitely want it to be,” Barton says, grinning. Then he blinks and smacks his forehead. “Oh! You’re probably worried that being gay is illegal still, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blinks. “It’s not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barton shakes his head. “Same-sex sexual activity between consenting adults has been legal since 1980 in New York, and same-sex marriage just got legalized last year. That doesn’t mean everybody’s a fan of it, necessarily, but it’s not a crime anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky slumps back into his chair, ears ringing. He could get </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To a fella. Hell, he could get married to a fella and </span>
  <em>
    <span>brag</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it. Barton and Romanoff are watching him, Barton looking slightly concerned, Romanoff with a blank expression. Bucky can’t think of anything to say except, “Fuck me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barton laughs and wiggles his eyebrows. “Well, if you’re offering, gorgeous.” Before Bucky can answer, Steve and Coulson walk back into the office. Steve sees Bucky’s face and raises an eyebrow, asking if he needs to intervene. Bucky shakes his head and Steve relaxes minutely, barely even breaking stride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buck, Phil here got us a place of our own,” Steve says brightly, clapping Coulson on the shoulder. “Back in Brooklyn, too! It’ll be just like the old days, ‘cept this time we’ll have our own rooms.” He laughs and Bucky joins in, still reeling from his discovery. Steve can absolutely tell something’s up but he won’t ask about it until they’re alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call someone to drive you two to your new apartment,” Coulson says. “I can also have someone come to you tomorrow and help you settle in, explain the ins and outs of this century, if you’d like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky can see Steve’s about to decline, so he quickly jumps in. “That’d be great, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I volunteer as tribute,” Barton pipes up, a grin on his face. Coulson opens his mouth to interject, but before he can, Barton sees and says, “Aw, c’mon, Phil! It’ll be fun! And you know they’re just going to stick me on medical leave for a few weeks anyway. Please?” He does something with his eyes and face that makes him look sad and big-eyed, and Bucky’s heart skips another beat. (Traitor.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Coulson pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” Barton lets out a cheer, and Coulson adds, “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you go to Medical right now and let them take a look at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barton pouts. “Aw, medical, no,” he whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take it or leave it, Agent,” Coulson says firmly. Barton sighs and nods, still pouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll drive them to their new place, Phil,” Romanoff says smoothly, rising from her seat. “Got all your stuff, boys?” They don’t have any stuff. When Steve says as much, a smirk flashes across Romanoff’s face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you shopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She herds them out of Coulson’s office, cutting off Coulson ordering Barton to go to Medical, and takes them to an elevator, which takes them to a large underground space filled with cars. Bucky’s inner nerd is screeching, and he’s sure that as he looks around he’s got a stupid look of awe on his face. “These are all SHIELD’s?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve snickers, elbowing him. “You got a little drool there, Buck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky punches him in the shoulder. “Shut it, punk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Romanoff eyes them, amusement dancing across her face. “Yes, they all belong to SHIELD,” she says. “If you worked for us, you could take them out for a spin whenever you wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can tell she’s not serious, so he responds in kind. “I’ll admit I’m tempted,” he says, grinning. “Ask me again after I’ve slept on it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get into a car and strap in. As they’re driving, Bucky’s face is practically glued to the window to watch the scenery go by. He barely even processes Steve teasing him about it, and far too soon they’re driving along streets that he recognizes - if only barely. They pass a building that used to belong to Mr. Tanner, who fixed Bucky’s family’s shoes when they got too old, that’s now something called a Starbucks. He sees more and more buildings from his childhood that have been replaced by something unfamiliar as they get further into his old neighbourhood, and it starts to hit him that they’re in a different time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the people he grew up with will be gone. If they’re not gone, they’ll be old, having lived a full life while he and Stevie were stuck in the ice. He’s been trying real hard not to think about it, but his family - he sucks in a breath, shoving that thought into a box and sealing it shut, labelling it ‘do not open until alone’. The car comes to a stop and Romanoff turns to look at him. “Home sweet home,” she says with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This ain’t home,” Bucky mutters before he can stop himself, sliding out of the car and staring up at their new place next to Steve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the ride, Agent Romanoff,” Steve says politely, holding out his hand. She shakes it, nods at him, then gets back in the car and drives away. “Well, Buck,” Steve says, grabbing Bucky’s hand and squeezing, “It’s now or never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“End of the line, Stevie,” Bucky says, squeezing Steve’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“End of the line,” Steve responds. Then, holding onto each other for dear life, they take their first step into the future. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ART! BEAUTIFUL GLORIOUS ART! LOOK!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>~ Bucky, April 2012 ~</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit Steven, pick your fucking socks up off the floor or so help me!” Bucky shouts, narrowly avoiding tripping over said socks and falling on his face. He finishes zipping up his skinny jeans on his way into the kitchen and pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve pokes his head out of his art studio, paint smeared on his scowling face. “I’ll pick up my socks when you stop leaving your dishes in the damn sink, </span>
  <em>
    <span>James</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sticks his tongue out at Steve. “Punk,” he grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jerk,” Steve retorts, disappearing back into his studio. “Are you gettin’ ready for your </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It ain’t a date, Stevie,” Bucky says, “Clint’s just finally gonna learn that he ain’t the best marksman around, that’s all.” He ignores the kissy noises Steve makes in response, checks his hair in the mirror one last time, then grabs his keys and wallet from the little table near the door. “Those socks better be gone by the time I get back or I’ll make you eat them, Steven Grant!” he threatens, shoving his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his helmet from where it’s hanging on the wall. He leaves, closing the door behind him and cutting off whatever Steve was saying, then jogs down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve may have been the one who drove the motorcycle back in the war, Bucky thinks as he exits his building and gets a faceful of sunshine, but Bucky’s the one with the sweet ride now. Steve’s all about public transit and the environment. Don’t get Bucky wrong, he cares about the environment too, but he knows for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fact</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Clint likes seeing him on his motorcycle. So the environment can suck it for a day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swings a leg over the seat and turns his key in the ignition, grinning as the engine roars to life between his legs. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, smoothing a hand over the bike’s dash. “Gonna make me look good today, darlin’? I’d sure appreciate it.” The bike rumbles at him, engine revving as he puts on his helmet and pulls away from the curb.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Text Message from World’s Greatest Marksman,</b>
  <span> his helmet says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky scowls. “Fucker changed his name again,” he mutters. “Read text.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>are you on your way gorgeous semi colon close bracket</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Respond ‘yeah sweetheart comma just left’,” Bucky says. It’s a few more minutes before Clint responds (</span>
  <b>Oakland no shit i mean okay</b>
  <span>), and Bucky doesn’t reply, figuring he’ll be there in a minute or so anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls up and parks his bike outside Clint’s building, then pulls off his helmet and heads up after Clint buzzes him in. He can hear a dog barking from inside the apartment when he knocks on the door, and Clint’s muffled shout of ‘come in!’ can barely be heard over it. He pushes open the door, using one hand to fend off a golden haired mutt from escaping the apartment, and shuts it behind him. “Clint?” he calls, scratching behind the dog’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In here!” Clint’s voice is coming from the living room and when Bucky walks in, he finds him stretched out on the couch wearing blue jeans and a white shirt with hand symbols on it. “Lucky, down!” Clint scolds half-heartedly. The dog - Lucky, he assumes - pays him no attention and continues trying to get Bucky to pet him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s alright,” Bucky says, kneeling to pet him. He takes the little bit of time that affords him and looks around Clint’s apartment. There’s a bow hanging above the couch, well-used and well-loved, and the rest of the apartment looks... lived in. There’s books and various knick knacks scattered about, and everything has a thin layer of dog hair. “I like your place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint snorts. “No need to be polite, I know it’s a mess,” he says, waving a hand in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a nice place,” Bucky says firmly. “And having this fella around probably don’t hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky is the best dog,” Clint says solemnly. He manages a straight face for about half a second before cracking, an easy grin sliding across his face. “So, what do you have planned for us today, Buckaroo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky blinks at him. “I was supposed to plan something?” he asks. Clint’s face falls for a split second and Bucky can’t have that, so he rushes to reassure him. “Kidding! I was thinking we could go for coffee and then maybe have that competition we talked about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint grins at him and wiggles his eyebrows, sitting up from the couch. “Competition, huh? What do I get when I win?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky smirks at him, standing from his crouch and moving right in between Clint’s spread legs. “That’s up to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Winner’s choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint swallows, and Bucky tracks the bob of his throat, feeling some sort of thrill at flirting this openly with another fella. “Sounds good to me,” Clint says. He stands up, putting them chest to chest, and Bucky finds himself looking up at Clint. “Shall we?” Clint asks smoothly, and it takes Bucky a moment to remember how to nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can take my bike,” he offers. “Got a spare helmet.” He takes a step back, putting some distance between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I’d love that, there’s a coffee place and a shooting range within walking distance,” Clint says. “And it’s a nice day for a walk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that. Are we taking Lucky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look at the pup right as he lets out a snore, asleep on his bed in the corner. “Nah,” Clint says, “Dogs aren’t allowed in the range, and I can ask a friend to come feed him if we run late.” He moves towards his front door and Bucky follows him, waiting for him to lock his door before heading down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they get outside, Clint reaches over to take Bucky’s hand and Bucky flinches away, eyes darting around worriedly. “We can’t-” he starts. He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Clint says calmly. “Can’t expect you to just get over it. I’ll follow your lead, yeah?” Bucky nods, then steels himself and reaches over and grabs Clint’s hand. His heart is pounding and every instinct he has is screaming at him that this is a bad idea, but he ignores them all and keeps holding Clint’s hand, albeit stiffly. After a couple minutes of them walking in silence, he relaxes enough to look over at Clint apologetically. “Don’t even,” Clint says when Bucky opens his mouth. “Do not apologize for having a reaction that is completely understandable. I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, Bucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nods, unable to speak past the knot in his throat, and just keeps hold of Clint’s hand as they walk. “Talk to me,” he eventually gets out. “Distract me. Tell me about you, since this is the first time we don’t have SHIELD listening to our every word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not all that interesting,” Clint says, shrugging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky snorts. “Yeah, right. I wanna know it all, sweetheart - the good, the bad, and the dirty.” He squeezes Clint’s hand, eyes flicking over to him for a brief moment. “You’re plenty interesting to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint blinks at him, shock colouring his features, then nods hesitantly. He starts off quietly speaking about his childhood, then moves to his time in the circus, taking Bucky through his whole life up until SHIELD. “Coulson recruited me,” he says, eyes staring at some far off place in his past. “Probably saved my life, if I’m being honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did he get you to listen to him?” Bucky asks curiously. “You don’t seem like the type to, uh. Well. To listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint laughs. “He shot me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky nearly trips over the sidewalk as he processes that, but manages to catch himself before making a complete idiot of himself in front of Clint. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He shot me,” Clint repeats. “Probably good he did, too. No way would I have listened to him otherwise. And then he followed through. Made sure I got proper medical care, didn’t let anyone treat me different for not having the same training they did - not that they did that much once I started wiping the floor with them - even taught me how to read, although I’m still not great at that.” He runs his free hand sheepishly through his hair. “Being bounced around so many homes and then living in a circus didn’t really afford much time for an education.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad he found you,” Bucky says quietly, his opinion of Agent Coulson rising several notches as Clint speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clint murmurs. “Coffee! What do you want? My treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just black for now,” Bucky says, letting Clint’s hand go and watching him dart inside the shop. He didn’t realize Clint had been through so much in his life, and his heart aches for this man he barely knows. He desperately wants that to change, wants to bare his heart to Clint as Clint has done for him. He’s so deep in thought that when Clint comes back out holding their coffees, it takes him a moment to realize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just got you a medium,” Clint says, handing Bucky his and clutching the biggest cup Bucky’s ever seen to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Bucky says sincerely, eyeing Clint’s cup warily. “Is it even safe to drink that much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint looks down at his mug. “Probably not,” he admits. He flashes a grin at Bucky. “But that’s never stopped me before!” He takes a big swig of his coffee, sighing happily after he swallows, and the two of them spend the rest of their walk to the shooting range poking fun at each other. “Here we are!” Clint says as they arrive. They walk in and Clint waves to the guy behind the counter, who waves back before buzzing them through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the rules for this contest?” Bucky asks slyly, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door. They’re the only two at the range so they have the whole place to roam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint turns to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks Bucky up and down. “What was your specialty?”</span>
</p><p><span>“I was a sniper,” Bucky says. “Used a</span> <span>M1928A1 Thompson. How ‘bout you? Mentioned you were a sniper before.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Clint smirks. “A gun is not my preferred weapon.” He walks over to a set of lockers along the wall and unlocks one, pulling out a black case. He sets it gently on a table and flicks the latch keeping it closed, revealing a bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bow?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it!” Clint exclaims, lovingly taking the bow out of the case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way you’re better than I am, not with that,” Bucky says, scoffing playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we’ll see,” Clint says, making a face at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess we will,” Bucky says.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell us who he thought was the better shot,” Clint complains as they walk out of the range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings, sweetheart,” Bucky teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Clint scoffs. “He didn’t want to hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> feelings, more like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky holds up his hands in surrender. “Let’s just agree that we’re both excellent shots. Deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you buy me more coffee,” Clint says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal,” Bucky says. He takes Clint’s hand again as they walk along the street, letting go only to duck into a coffeeshop and grab them both another coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Clint says, cradling the cup to his chest. “This was a good date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky grins. “I had a good time too,” he says. “We should do it again sometime, but you should plan that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will warn you, my plans consist mostly of pizza and Dog Cops,” Clint says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s Dog Cops?” Bucky asks curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint stares at him. “No one’s introduced you to Dog Cops yet? The horror! It’s only the best show on the planet!” He starts walking faster, pulling Bucky along. “That’s it, we’re going back to my place and watching some right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I’d love that,” Bucky says, laughing, “I told Steve I’d be home soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint pouts at him, slowing down. “Steve is ruining your introduction to one of the best things about the future!” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky can see Clint’s building at the end of the street, his bike still parked out front. “The future’s not going anywhere and neither am I,” he says. “Dog Cops. Second date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But tell Steve I’m mad at him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do,” Bucky says. They’re almost to Clint’s building now. “Tell Lucky I said hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s gonna be mad you didn’t come say it yourself,” Clint warns. “You’re going to have to bring pizza with you to appease him next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky lifts an eyebrow. “Oh?” he says dryly. “And what kind of pizza does Lucky like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint looks around furtively, then leans in, beckoning Bucky closer. “The kind with cheese,” he whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky laughs. “I’ll be sure to bring that next time then.” Finally, they come to a stop in front of Clint’s apartment building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is me,” Clint says. “I had fun, Bucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So did I,” Bucky agrees. He lifts Clint’s hand to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll see you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clint grins as him, flush high on his cheekbones. “I’ll text you.” Bucky releases his hand and backs away, turning back to look once he’s straddling his bike. With a wink and a wave, he pulls his helmet on, guns the engine, and drives off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t wait for Dog Cops. Whatever that is.</span>
</p>
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